An Awkward Understanding
by dramamelon
Summary: The uncaring subject of salacious rumors, Kensei is grudgingly forced to confront them by the other man involved.


**Disclaimer: **I make no claim to ownership of Bleach beyond my manga, DVDs, and artbook. No monetary profits are being made and no disrespect is intended. No characters were harmed in the making of this fic.

**Characters/Pairing: **Kensei, Shuuhei  
**Content: **some language, sexual innuendo/references of both het and slash varieties  
**Summary: **The uncaring subject of salacious rumors, Kensei is grudgingly forced to confront them by the other man involved.  
**Word Count: **2370**  
Concrit: **go for it, if you really feel the need.**  
Notes: **This one snuck up on me, but has received the most editing/revising of anything I've squeaked out in ages. It probably shows. Not that it makes the idea any less stupid. :D Also, my one-shot stupids seem to keep growing longer.

* * *

**AN AWKWARD UNDERSTANDING**  
_(or, Something Like That)_

The weather was a bad joke and it had chosen Kensei as its target. Days of dreary skies and a near constant drizzle made a mockery of the tail end of spring where a burgeoning influx of summer heat and sunshine should have been the norm. The sky that morning had reeked of yet another downpour, but a hard case of cabin fever made staying in unacceptable. Thus, prepared for another dismal turnout, Kensei instead found himself overdressed and panting like a dog without recourse to the shady spot under his favorite bush. A thin jacket already lay stripped off beside him, victim to the brunt of an unexpectedly hot, humid, and ultimately cloudless day.

Slumped in the manner of a candle set too long in the sun on Urahara's front stoop, making a short stop to hydrate himself, Kensei chugged down half a bottle of water in one go. When he'd first grabbed it from Urahara's fancy modern icebox, the sides had been frosted with chilly condensation, but now the contents were better called lukewarm. Rather like Rose's reception of his invitation for the statuesque blond to join him for dinner a couple of weeks previous, actually.

Kensei groaned quietly at the recalled defeat and rested his arms across his knees, head falling forward. Of all the things he could have made a comparison with... Rose was still giving him strange looks. At least none of the others knew, though, granting Kensei the precious absence of relentless teasing.

The half empty bottle of water dangled from the limp fingers of his left hand, swaying lightly to and fro as he idly considered letting it drop. Perhaps the landing would douse the worn denim of his jeans and give him a moment's respite before he felt sticky and gross again, like the grimy patch of pink bubblegum ground into the blacktop near his right heel. Knowing that it wouldn't last more than a few short heartbeats was enough for Kensei to pass on the idea.

A faint breeze wafted in from somewhere across the open lot in front of the shop, bringing with it a slight relief. Even better was the tall, rangy figure that shuffled over from the street, blocking the direct path of the afternoon sun. The shadow cast was an imperfect fit, but better than the nothing he'd had before. "Don't move," he commanded, not even bothering to look. "Stay right there for a couple hours and I'll pay you good money."

Much to Kensei's disgruntlement, his living sunshade took it upon himself to completely disobey.

Kensei turned his head, peering along the length of his shoulder at the contrary trespasser. A familiar set of numbers inked across a smooth left cheek met his gaze, right below a stripe of sky blue stretching from ear across that cheek and the bridge of well-shaped nose.

"Thought I told you not to move, kid," Kensei said, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. A satisfying series of pops came from each side.

"Sorry," Shuuhei replied. He didn't really sound it, in Kensei's opinion. As soon as the not-really-an-apology was done, Shuuhei melted into an overheating slump deeper than Kensei's own – a pleasant moment of instant karma, Kensei thought. Even Shuuhei's hair seemed to give up the ghost, laying like a wilted thatch of oddly colored grass along the curve of his skull. "I wanted to talk to you about something and heard that you might be here. I hope you don't mind my intrusion."

"Might be here? That redheaded buddy of yours must have ratted me out." He'd run into Renji while digging through the refrigerator. He still didn't quite understand why the redhead spent so much time around the place. Kensei arched a brow and eyed the kid next to him a little closer when he shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Renji. Something had Shuuhei twitchy, albeit sluggishly so. "You planning on asking me something weird?"

"...it might be considered such by some people," Shuuhei conceded with a small shrug of one shoulder, companionably keeping his eyes scanning the paving between feet clad in a pair of Velcro-strapped sandals.

The answer did not change Kensei's growing sense of the unusual stepping into his day. Again. Was it truly necessary for someone to have so much oddness in his life, Kensei wondered. There was only one way to deal with it – confront it head on with a bold statement. "I don't do threesomes."

Shuuhei flushed a vivid shade of embarrassed, hands curling into mortified fists atop a pair of bony knees revealed by the abbreviated length of his cutoff cargo pants. Kensei snorted amusement, then grumpily wished he'd had the foresight to put on a pair of shorts, too. At least his habitual need to show off his guns had him in a sleeveless top, though with Shuuhei's bared arms, Kensei didn't have that one on him, either. Considering the way Kensei's tank clung sweat-damp to his torso, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be wearing his much longer if he didn't get out of the sun.

"That wasn't... necessarily... what I was going to ask about," Shuuhei slowly replied, distracting Kensei from his wandering thoughts and making what Kensei knew to be a conscious effort at unbending his hands.

"Your 'necessarily' implies I wasn't too far off the mark." Kensei swirled his water bottle, eyes drifting to watch the small vortex the movement created. He knew what the kid was on about – the rumor mill reached his ears, too. Not that he felt any need to discuss it, whatever wishy-washy, touchy-feely crap Shuuhei might be into.

"Yes, I suppose it _is_ something like that," Shuuhei said. He took a deep breath, drawing himself up and wiping away the beading sweat on his brow as he prepared to stop pussyfooting around. "Have you heard the rumors? About the two of us, I mean?"

A small smirk curved up the corner of Kensei's mouth as he shook his head in a moment of beleaguered humor. If Shuuhei was going to make him go through with the talk, Kensei figured he could at least get a little fun out of it. "You mean the ones where I'm pounding your skinny ass six ways from Sunday every chance I get?"

Splotchy red with a speechless mouth hanging open, while not a particularly good look for anyone, was somehow oddly endearing on Shuuhei. Smirk turned to full-on grin, Kensei was curious how many shades of embarrassment Shuuhei had and how may he would cycle through before he'd had enough of Kensei's baiting.

Shuuhei favored Kensei with a sheepish grin of his own, taking the comment better than anticipated once the initial shock wore off. Limp tufts of dark hair swayed across his forehead as he shook his head a bit, drawing attention to his narrow but laughing eyes. "I should expect things like that more often than I do, considering the people I know."

"Yeah, you should," Kensei agreed, lifting his bottle of water for another sip. He grimaced as he discovered it had moved from just shy of tepid to downright unpalatable, steaming up the inside of the plastic like a greenhouse. He sighed and dumped the remains over the paving at his feet, dragging one sneaker-enclosed toe through the already evaporating puddle. "So, what was it about those rumors you wanted to know? You're not interested in giving it a try, are you?"

"_No!_" Shuuhei exclaimed, bolting upright from his renewed slump as if hit by a stray bolt of lightning. He stared at Kensei in shock, eyes wider than the former captain had ever seen them. Then, he visibly calmed himself again, forcing his tight shoulders to relax. "No, I'm not interested in that." He paused, then added, "No offense, sir."

"Please, not sir. It makes me feel old." He told Shuuhei, giving him a quick swat on the knee – it was as bony as it looked. "I might be older than you, but I'm not old."

Shuuhei gave him an agreeable nod and an understanding smile. "Of course."

Kensei raised his empty bottle to his mouth, grunting when he recalled too late that the last of the contents lay puddled at his feet, vaporizing on the pavement. The heat was frying his brain and he was thirsty enough to outdrink a camel. He sighed and thumped the bottle against his own knee. "It's a good thing you're not interested, honestly. I'd hate to have to break your heart when I told you I prefer tall, lanky blonds."

"I see," Shuuhei said, examining the skin between his fingers. "We have that in common, then."

Kensei flashed a glance at him, chancing to see the faint return of blush to the youngster's cheeks. He slapped on a wolfish grin and spared the poor lieutenant no mercy. "Especially the kind with a big set of knockers, huh?"

Shuuhei face turned positively neon, but it didn't stop him from eyeing Kensei carefully. "Oh, yes. Those are very nice. They're not your preference, too, by any chance, are they?"

With an amused huff, Kensei shook his head. "No worries, kid. Matsumoto is all yours. If you ever figure out how to approach her, that is." The stoplight blush threatened to burst capillaries. Kensei wondered for a moment if he should be concerned about that. "I like my blonds a little more flat-chested, if you know what I mean."

He received a quick nod, the blushing fortunately subsiding a good bit. "I do," Shuuhei assured him, a small smile gracing his mouth again. "I like them like that, too. Or both ways, I should say. And redheads. I like redheads both ways, as well."

"You're working your way toward a real orgy there, Shuuhei," Kensei teased, nudging him with an elbow jab to the ribs. "Toss in a couple representatives from the rest of the rainbow and we'll party. Not much for the group thing, like I mentioned, but I'm sure I could get into it given the right incentive."

"That's not what I meant!" Shuuhei exclaimed with a laugh, his hands waving in a negating gesture to emphasize. "One at a time is plenty for me."

"You sure about that?" Kensei asked in reply, one brow arched high on his forehead. Then he frowned as he was distracted by a hangnail on his thumb, catching it between his teeth and yanking it free.

"Yes, I'm sure about that." The response came quickly and without need of mental exploration. "I suppose there are some that appreciate such things, but I don't think I'm one of them. I don't think I could handle more than one at a time, honestly, even if I wanted to try."

"A man after my own heart." Kensei sniffed thoughtfully, gazing out over the lot. "Well, this has been awkward, hasn't it?"

Shuuhei gave sharp nod, hands rested over those bony knees once more, gaze also turned outward. "Yes, it has."

Kensei rubbed at his chin, feeling the scratchy rise of stubble along his jaw. "Glad you agree. Let's never talk about it sober again, shall we?"

"Yes," Shuuhei agreed again. "Definitely."

"Good. Lesson learned." He paused a moment to pick at his teeth with a short, blunt-edged thumbnail. Did he get the hangnail stuck in there? "Speaking of sober, let's go grab a beer and forget this ever happened. The bar down the street's got air conditioning."

The last remnants of the still somewhat discomfited look lingering on Shuuhei's face turned to worship. "I would drink the world's worst beer for that right now."

With a chuckle, Kensei rose to his feet and tossed the empty bottle inside the shop – one of the brats could deal with it. He let his hands dangle near his waist, thumbs caught in belt loops, as he headed toward the sidewalk. "You're in luck. This place has some decent brew. C'mon. No sense boiling our heads any longer than we have to." As they left the lot, Kensei asked, "So why the hell are you wearing the gigai, anyway? Did you _want_ to feel the heat or something?"

"I could ask the same of you," Shuuhei replied catching up with a few quick steps.

Kensei snorted as he turned down the sidewalk. "Easier to drink real world beer this way, not to mention I live here. What's your excuse?"

"Can I get away with claiming the same?" Shuuhei's grin was easy, matching the slow strut of his walk.

"Only if you're paying."

END

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**(an extra bit of stupid)  
**

_A short while later at the bar..._

Shuuhei leaned against the bar, fingers loosely curled around the cool sides of his mug. The foam head dripped over the slender digits to pool on the highly polished wood countertop. "Does Hirako know of your... affections... for him?"

"What? Shinji?" How he managed to get around that particular shock without swallowing half a pint into his lungs, Kensei would never know. He leveled an incredulous glare on the younger man. "Hell no! What gave you the idea that I was talking about _him_?"

"You said tall, lanky blonds, so I figured-"

Kensei cut off the startled response before it could get any further. "Well, you figured wrong," he said, flagging down the bartender to get his drink refilled. "I meant the other tall, lanky blond. Go back outside and thaw your brain. I don't think the AC's doing you any better than the heat was."

. . .

_Elsewhere..._

Somewhere within the embrace of the echoing Vizard warehouse, Shinji sneezed with gusto. Moments later, a sudden, powerful sneeze overcame Rose, as well.

The gust of his breath sent the thus far five story house of cards rising between he and Love toppling in a terrible wave of destruction. Across the table, Love rolled his eyes – only years of friendship let Rose guess what was happening behind those dark shades – and tossed the fat stack of cards still in his hand on the ruins.

"Shit, man," he groused, "whatever you two got, I don't want it."

Rubbing at his nose, Rose merely graced Love with a reply consisting of his best look of confusion.


End file.
